The White Tomb Wizards: The Ankh of Escariot
by PhoenixTailAndHolly
Summary: Eleven years have passed, and Hogwarts is about to welcome the first generation of students born after the Wizarding War. There is peace now, but an uncomfortable one. Follow Whit Glacius, a muggleborn student set to explore the world of wizardry.
1. A Tuxedo with Leather Sandals

Chapter I: A tuxedo with leather sandals

It was 11:57 p.m. on December eighth, meaning there were only three minutes left until his eleventh birthday. Whit Glacius was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling from his warm and comfortable bed, thinking about what tomorrow would bring. There'd be no party; his mother and he had it rough, living off child support and welfare. His mother had two jobs, working as a nanny beside her normal part-time job as a librarian at the University of London and even then they had to scrape the bottom of her purse at the end of every month. Besides, even if they had had enough money to host a party, whom would they invite? Family? His mother's family had disowned her after finding out she'd gotten pregnant at age fifteen. His father? He hadn't seen or heard from him his entire life. Classmates? What classmates? Everyone in his class teased him. They relentlessly picked on him every chance they got. Inviting anyone over for a party would be the same as inviting foxes to come snuggle up with the chickens in a hen yard. No, Whit would have to make do with his mother, just like he had done ten times before. In fact, that was just the way he liked it.

Whit stared at the ceiling for another minute. A large crack in the plaster ran over it, here and there widening to places where you could see the bare cement above it. He heard raised voices booming from the apartment overhead. Mr. and Mrs. Jackobson were having their biweekly shouting match by the sounds of it. The subject for today was his unemployment. Whit had found out this was one of Mrs. Jackobson's favourite subjects, since she'd brought it up nearly every time the past few months. 11:59 p.m. One minute to go. Whit wondered if he'd feel different. He heard the door to his mother's room open and close with its telltale groan.

Twelve o'clock. The clock in his room gave a soft tick, signalling the beginning of his eleventh birthday. His mother knocked on the door softly.

'Come in, mother', Whit said as he sat up in his bed. As she opened the door, Whit saw his mother looking proudly at him. She had blond hair, falling down to her shoulders. It was held together in a ponytail by a pink scrunchy. She had blue eyes that were round and penetrating. Her nose was prominent on her face, though not enough to claim all attention. She was smiling.

'Happy birthday, sweety', she said after hugging him warmly, 'would you like to see your presents?'

Whit held out his hands eagerly. 'Yes, of course!' His mother looked at him in an amused way. 'You'll have to close your eyes first.'

After he did, Whit felt something hard pressed in his hands. When he looked down, he saw a present in his hands, covered in gift-wrappings bearing the University of London logo. His fingers slid around the edges. It was square and flat, with wide grooves in the sides.

'Is it a book?' he asked finally.

'Open it', his mother said, 'Open it and you'll find out if it is.'

Whit tore the gift-wrappings off of his present to find a black book with a round logo on the front. It was titled "The Hobbit" by J.R.R. Tolkien. Whit had read it at school and had immediately fallen in love with it. He had borrowed it at the library three times now, re-reading the book as often as he could.

'Mother, I love it!' he said as he put his arms around his mother and hugged her as hard as he could. He flipped the book open and saw that it had little pictures in it too.

'Check the first page.'

Under a bit of print about copyrights and trademarks was a written text. It was in red ink and the letters were round and flowing. He recognized it as his mother's. It said:

_To my darling son. May every day be your birthday._

'Mother?'

'Yes honey?'

'I don't want to sound rude, but- don't you think this is a bit much?'

'Try not to think about money today. I've saved up a bit for a while now because I wanted you to have a nice present this year.'

Whit gave this some thought. His mother didn't generally have money to spare, so when she did, that mostly meant she had not bought something she usually did. Last year, she'd spent four months without wearing make-up, just to save money for that red bike he'd had his eyes on. When he'd found out she hadn't been buying any lunch for herself either, he'd suddenly lost all appetite for that bike. He'd made it a point not to show interest in expensive things before his birthday and the holidays. This year he had obviously failed.

Whit knew his mother had needed the money for something else too. There seemed to be some as-of-yet undiscovered law in the universe that whenever she had saved up for something nice, something in the house would break down. His mother had called it 'Whit's First Law of Harsh Reality' when he had told her about it. This month, their television had decided to follow 'Whit's First Law' and because they had no money to repair it, the sat up each night watching the upper half of the news, while the bottom half showed lines that made you feel nauseous when you looked at them too long.

'It's the best present you ever gave me, mother.'

'Good,' she said, smiling at him, 'now go to bed, honey. The rest of the gifts can wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow is another school day for you, and I've allowed you to stay awake for far too long already.'

Whit kissed his mother goodnight and fell asleep holding his personal copy of 'The Hobbit' pressed tight against his chest.

The next morning, Whit came into the living room holding his book and saw that his mother had decorated the ceiling with birthday flags. He saw that there were balloons on the floor and some were hanging from the flags too. His mother kissed him on the cheeks and then went into the kitchen to make breakfast. When she came back out, she looked at the time and quickened her pace.

'God, you're going to be late again. You have to be at school in ten minutes.'

Whit quickly stowed away his two ham sandwiches and grabbed his bag. After carefully placing his new book in the bag, he flung it onto his back and kissed his mother goodbye.

Whit had spent twelve minutes in the bathroom looking at the tiles on the walls, occasionally checking his watch. He knew that if he left the bathroom at 7:46, that he'd have about ten minutes to get to school after eating his breakfast. Since the walk took exactly nine minutes, he'd only have to endure one minute of playground torture, less if his classmates didn't notice his arrival immediately. Whit passed the Broadstreet Bridge, took his regular shortcut through Westmore Avenue and arrived at school. He checked his watch. 8:28 a.m. Whit was about turn back and wait for a minute when he heard a familiar voice from the playground.

'Anyone order ice-cream?'

Robert Dupree didn't even take time to wait for anyone to reply. He pointed at Whit and said: 'Nobody ordered you, snowcone, so why don't you run back home?'

Whit sighed. _I guess certain things don't change when you grow older..._ Slowly he trudged out toward the playground where he knew another two minutes worth of insults and taunts would follow. If they didn't start about his appearance or anything he had said, than they would start about his surname, which was as odd as it was unique. Whit liked it. He thought 'Glacius' sounded _cool_.

During classes, the teasing mostly stopped. As bold as some of the kids in his school were, none of them had the audacity to insult him directly in front of the teachers. He was seated in the front row, right in front of the teacher's desk. When he opened his bag to get his pencil and paper, the black book he had gotten for his birthday stood out. He picked it out gingerly and wiped the front, even though there wasn't really any dust on it. When he put it back, he heard Marie whisper something to Clair, whom passed it on to Robert. A big smirk flashed on his face. Not a good sign.

The day passed without any real problems. Whit had another 'memorable moment' when he kicked the ball into his own goal during gym-class (after being picked last of course) and had to endure an entire classroom of people, including his gym-teacher, laughing at him. Still, it wasn't until Whit walked back home that the real fun started...

As Whit walked back towards the Broadstreet Bridge, he suddenly felt a big push against his back. Toppling over forward, he smacked headfirst onto the pavement. It took him a moment to register what exactly had happened. In that moment, Jason ripped open his schoolbag and in one swift motion pulled out his birthday gift.

'What's this, snowcone?' Robert sneered, 'did your mommy find you a book in the bins while looking for food?' Some people might have gotten angry at this comment. Some people might even have gotten violent. Whit had endured enough torment from Robert to know not to. Four classmates always surrounded Robert, and this was no exception. _Like flies around a turd. Just let them have their fun and they'll move on._

'Looks expensive,' Robert continued, 'your mother must have found it in a bin in Somerset.'

At this comment, Whit had to suppress a grin. Robert would do anything to remind people he lived in Somerset road, a street in London where lots of rich, upper class people lived.

'Trash is still trash,' Robert said, grinning slyly, 'even if it's from my neighbourhood. Should I make the world a better place?'

All four of Whit's other classmates nodded in agreement to this. Whit didn't understand. In his view, the only thing Robert could do to make the world a better place was not to take part in it.

'You should always recycle your trash...'

Jason and Marcus shot forward and restrained Whit as Robert and Dwight both took a side of his beloved present. Only then did it dawn to Whit what Robert meant. He tried to get the book out of their hands, but no matter how hard he tried, Jason and Marcus, both in the junior rugby league, made sure he didn't even advance an inch. Robert and Dwight started to pull on each side of the book, which split right down the middle. Robert deposited the remains of his gift in front of him. Jason and Marcus let go and together, they walked away. Whit quickly gathered all the pages of his book, while tears started rolling down his face. _Why? Why did they have to do that? Mommy spent so much time saving up to buy it. Bastards!_

Whit replaced the pages back into his torn book with as much care as he could. Even so, pages stuck out at odd angles, some smeared with mud and sand from the road. The book's back was partly torn, a deep gash running from the bottom all the way up to the middle. He pressed the book against his chest and ran the rest of the way, slamming the door closed as he got home. He ran to his room and fell down on the bed. _Why do I have to be the one everyone picks on? Why me?_

Slowly, his pillow filled with his tears as he drifted off to sleep.

'Wake up, honey. Come on, wake up, dinner is almost ready.'

As Whit opened his eyes, he saw the slim form of his mother standing beside his bed, gently prodding his side until he woke up fully. She smiled at him endearingly. 'Are you hungry? You look exhausted.'

Whit was about to wipe his eyes, knowing they were puffy and red, until he realized he was still holding the remains of his present.

'Have you been crying?'

'No', Whit lied.

'Oh come on, son. I think I know you a little better than that. Tell me what happened. Was it that dreadful Robert again?'

Whit nodded in agreement.

'What did he do this time?'

Whit swallowed. _Mother isn't going to like what I'm about to say._ 'He tore up my birthday present.' He handed out the book without looking at it. He had seen enough to know it was ruined. 'Jason and Marcus held me while he and Dwight pulled it apart.'

His mother didn't reply. She merely stared at him, looking incredulous.

'I'm sorry mommy, it's all my fault. I shouldn't have taken it with me.'

'This book got ripped apart? This exact book?'

Whit glanced down. The big gush on the back was gone. The pages were all standing in the same direction, none of them sticking out. The book looked clean too, as though it had just been printed.

'I don't understand.'

'Neither do I, mommy.'

His mother flipped the book open on the first page. His mother's handwriting was still visible in red ink.

'What are you thinking, mother?'

'I don't know what to think. Yet somehow, something else keeps coming into my mind. I think you know what.'

Whit did know. It had crossed his mind too. More than two years ago, Lara, another one of his wonderful classmates, had pushed him from a swing. His arm got caught on one of the cables though, so when he fell, his arm had twisted into an impossible position. He had to visit the school nurse, which told him his arm had been broken on several places and that he would have to go to the hospital immediately. Before he even got there, the pain had subsided though, and his arm was perfectly normal again.

There were more occasions like this. Bruises and scratches that would have taken days to heal disappeared overnight, things that were broken and expensive miraculously started functioning again, and bills that his mother would never be able to pay somehow got lost in administrations or were even paid for by others by mistake. Luckily, his mother believed his word when something unexplainable had happened. She had called Robert's parents one evening, after he had punched Whit in the face. The bruise on his face had disappeared before she had even gotten back from work. Still, she stood by him, taking his word that it had really happened. Robert's parents had questioned him (reluctantly), and Robert had admitted it.

'Let's not try to think this out,' his mother suddenly said, 'we've tried that before and we never found an answer then. Let's just enjoy the rest of your birthday together.'

And so they did. His mother had bought him some pencils for school, a nifty poster showing the new line-up for FC Arsenal and a pair of new socks. She had even been able to get two slices of pie. One of them was mocha flavoured and with a big cherry on top, the other a strawberry-filled whipped cream pie with a slice of peach. They ate them greedily and spent the rest of the night playing games.

The rest of the year passed by quickly, filled with teasing classmates, worries about money and several candle-lit dinners (after all, a candle costs less than two light bulbs). During the rest of the winter, Whit had spent most of his time at home, reading books or watching the telly. Winter passed into spring, spring passed into summer.

Whit was walking back home on a Friday in high spirits. Today had been the last day of school and at last he was freed of Primary school and his horrible classmates. He set a brisk pace. His mother had been browsing through several folders for secondary schools, looking for a good place for Whit to attend. There were a lot of schools that Whit would be allowed to attend at (Whit was a relatively good study), so Whit had high hopes of never having to see Robert, Lara, Dwight or any of his other former classmates again.

Whit passed the gardeners' shop on the corner of Surrey Street and Abercromby Avenue when he saw the most curious of people. It was a man wearing a black tuxedo with a large pink tie. At first, Whit assumed that he was a businessman, but after closer inspection, he was also wearing white sport socks in leather sandals. Between his legs he had lodged a black leather suitcase. He was standing in front of the shop, reading a newspaper. Whit couldn't see his face, as the newspaper obscured it. He walked on, inwardly laughing at the oddness of his attire. He hadn't even walked ten feet when an odd feeling started to work in his stomach. He felt like he was being watched. Whit quickly turned around, looking for any sign of Robert and his cronies, but he saw no one. Whit's eyes passed the man in the tuxedo. The sneaking feeling came to him that he was watching, but he was still holding up the paper, so unless he could see through the paper, Whit assumed he was imagining things.

Once at home, Whit flipped on the telly and spent an hour blissfully lounging around. It felt great knowing he didn't have to face either that awful school or everyone in it ever again. His mother entered only an hour later, her hair in a tight bun, as it always was when she had to go to work.

'How was your day honey?' she asked when she closed the door.

'Great! Apart from Jason pushing me into a desk at school, nothing really happened.'

His mother smiled warmly. 'Am I to assume that today being your last day at that school helped a bit too?' Whit smiled. His mother could read him like a book. She gave him a warm kiss on the forehead and trudged to her room.

'Listen up, Whit,' she said after getting some clothes from her wardrobe, 'I'm going to have a quick shower and get into something more comfortable. Do you want to go through the folders for secondary schools afterwards?' Whit nodded eagerly in response. While his mother took a quick shower, he opened the dresser drawer and took out the different folders and fanned them out on the table. Most of them showed happily smiling children, supporting bags filled with books and standing in front of an old building. One really cool folder also held a DVD containing some visual material. _Too bad we don't own a DVD player._

Moments after he heard the shower turn off, there was a knock on the door.

'Can you get that, honey?' his mother yelled from the bathroom. Whit got up and stood on his toes to look through the peephole. He saw the face of a man in a tuxedo with a pink tie. His hair was short and thin, the hairline visibly receding. Whit guessed he was in his thirties. Whit opened the door, but left the chain on, just to be sure.

'Can I help you?' he asked. His mother had taught him years ago that he always had to be distant to people at the door he didn't know.

'Yes, mister Glacius,' the man said in an upbeat way, 'but I think I can help you more.'

'Are you a salesman?' At this, the man gave out a hearty laugh that sounded like it came from deep inside.

'In a way', he chuckled, 'I guess I am. My name is Mr. Williams, but you may call me Bernard. I'm a ministry representative for one of Britain's most acclaimed and distinguished schools. We would like to have a word with you and your mother.'

'Who is it, honey?' Whit heard his mother say behind him. She had put on a pair of sweatpants and a tanktop. Her hair was still damp from showering and she was busy wrapping a towel around it. When she saw the man in the doorway, she paused.

'Are you a tax collector, or from the bank?'

Mr. Williams' eyes darted from Whit to his mother, then quickly back to Whit. 'No Mrs. Glacius, I'm a ministry representative from a school that is interested in accepting your son, Whit.'

'How do you know his name?'

'We pulled up some data from the government quite a while ago. Every year, a select group of children is allowed to enrol in our school.' Mr. Williams' eyes had stopped darting between Whit and his mother, Whit noticed. They now focussed solely on his mother. He blushed slightly. 'I-If you'll just allow me in for a moment, than I can explain everything to you.'

'What's this school's name?'

'Hogwarts, Mrs. Glacius', he said, a slight smile creeping on his face as said it, 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

Whit's mother seemed temporarily stunned. Looking from the stranger at her door to Whit, look of disbelief etched itself on her face.

'W-Wizardry?'

'Yes. Your son has been enrolled to study at Hogwarts for quite some time now. Actually, he's been enrolled since birth. In my suitcase, I have a written acceptance letter. Would you like me to show it?'

Whit's mother was still stunned and speechless, not unlike he was himself.

'S-Since birth?'

'Yes,' Mr. Williams said, 'I would prefer if we could discuss this matter in a more private way. Our community prefers to remain hidden from prying eyes as much as it can.'

Whit unlocked the door and opened it further. Mr. Williams stepped in slowly, unsure if he was supposed to enter. Whit's mother was still silent and it appeared to Whit that Mr. Williams didn't want to intrude. He walked over to the dinner table where Whit had fanned out all the folders and placed his suitcase on top of them. Two big, silver locks on each side of it that had no visible opening or keyhole locked it.

'I see you have been busy trying to decide what school to send Whit to, Mrs. Glacius. I hope that by the end of the day, you have been able to make a satisfactory choice.' After that, Mr. Williams pulled a thin piece of wood out of his pocket and tapped his suitcase with it. The two locks that were on it sprang open instantly. He lifted up the lid and after replacing the piece of wood in his pocket, took out an envelope. It was sealed, Whit noticed, with red wax, engraved with an emblem.

'This is yours, Whit', he said, giving him the envelope, 'It's the letter that states that you've been accepted into Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When I was your age, I received my letter too. It was the beginning of a new life for me.' Mr. Williams then turned around and faced Whit's mother. 'Mrs. Glacius, I was sent here by the ministry of magic to help you and your son fully understand what magic is, why your son is accepted into Hogwarts, and what preparations you will have to make. I am here to make your passage into the world of magic as smooth as it can be.'

'Miss,' his mother said. She had been silent for quite a while now, and there was an uncertainty in her voice Whit had not heard before.

'Pardon?' Mr. Williams said.

'Miss Glacius, Mr. Williams.'

'I see. Call me Bernard.'


	2. Revelations at the Wandshop

Chapter II: Revelations at the wand shop

Bernard reached into his pocket and took the piece of wood out again. 'I'm going to close all windows and doors now, and I'm putting a silencing charm on the door, so no one can listen in on our conversation. It helps to keep the non-magical people unaware of us.' He pointed his wand in the direction of the windows, then the door. The windows slowly closed and locked themselves. The door gave off an odd 'shwwp' sound, as though it had been vacuum-sealed.

'I think it would be best if you opened your acceptance letter first.'

Whit delicately broke the seal of wax and flipped the envelope open. His mother shuffled in behind him, ready to read the letter over his head.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall._

_Dear Mr. Glacius,_

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of all necessary books and equipment. We look forward to seeing you on September 1st and remember; the train leaves King's Cross Station at Eleven o'clock sharp. 

_Respectfully,_

_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall._

'Right', Bernard said, 'I assume you're bustling with questions right now, but allow me to say just a few quick words about magic, and the magical community. First of all a simple fact: magic is real. Not everyone can tap into it. It is a rare gift that, once mastered, should be treated with great respect. Men and women that can tap into the source of magic and make it do what they want are called Witches and Wizards. We call people that can't do magic Muggles.'

'Magic is mostly performed with a wand, like mine.' He paused momentarily to show his wand, the piece of wood he had been waving around. Whit had already expected this. His mother was nodding her head like it was all-new to her. She had never been very interested in reading fantasy novels or watching fantasy on the television. 'At Hogwarts, a child is taught how to use his wand to perform magic. Where a muggle school would have courses like English, Maths, and Physics, Hogwarts has courses like Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions. The school was founded more than a thousand years ago, and has schooled practically all wizards and witches born and raised in Britain.'

'Where in Britain is it?' Whit looked at his mother. It was a good question, Whit realized.

'Hogwarts is somewhere in Scotland. You wouldn't be able to find it on the maps, since it was made unplottable and undetectable for muggles. It's located near the only all-wizard village in Britain, called Hogsmeade.'

'Why is the magical world so afraid to show itself? If magic is real', Whit asked, 'then why not use it? It could solve so many problems.'

Bernard nodded again and smiled. 'How would you have reacted to magic if you found out overnight that it was real? People are distrustful. The dark ages taught our community that revealing ourselves would be too much of a risk.'

'Where do we buy these things?' Whit's mother asked, looking down the list of supplies, 'I for one don't know where I could buy a wand or standard potion ingredients.'

'Diagon Alley. It's hidden here, in London. We'll get to that a little later, but for now, it suffices to say that finding any of the items on the list won't be any problem.'

They spent about half an hour with questions and answers. Bernard was seated in the soft armchair his mother always hoarded. Whit was never allowed to sit in it, even when she wasn't at home. His mother was now sitting next to him on the sofa, holding him close and listening intently on what Bernard was saying.

'No Susan, magic is neither harmless, nor dangerous. Magic simply _is_. What you do with it is up to those behind the wand. Let me prove this by an example'. He whipped out his wand and made some odd gestures with it. Out of the end came some roses. 'Pretty, aren't they?' Another movement of his wand made the flowers catch flame and burn down. 'Magic created those roses. The same magic also destroyed them. Magic is beautiful, but it is also ugly. There are people out there, carrying a wand and doing evil things. Robbing banks, burning houses, even taking lives.'

'That's horrible,' Whit's mother said, 'Can't they be stopped?'

'Yes. Just like thugs, thieves and terrorists are caught and arrested in the muggle world, so are wizards practicing the dark arts prosecuted.'

Whit turned to his mother. 'Mom, if it's okay with you, I'd like to attend at Hogwarts.'

Quite some time had passed while they were leisurely sitting on the sofa chatting with Bernard. Both Whit and his mother were very interested into what the wizarding world was like and how Whit would take part in it. When the clock struck six, Bernard checked his watch.

'Oh dear, it's after eight already. I really should be going now.' Bernard got up and closed his suitcase. He tapped it with his wand and the locks sprang back into place. 'Let's see, I've given you the letter, told you about magic… Ah! Diagon Alley. I haven't told you how to get there, have I?'

'Can't we just look it up on the map?'

Bernard raised his eyebrow. 'No, Whit, just like Hogwarts, it's been hidden from the muggle world. Only wizards can find it, and only if they know exactly where to look. Besides, you'll need a wand to get there, but you won't be able to buy one unless you're already there. Why don't I pop by tomorrow morning and help you on your way? I'll be able to get you in and help you find what you need. From then on, you will be able to do so all by yourself, after all, by then you'll have your wand.'

He turned around, pointed his wand at the windows and the door. It clicked open. 'I'll be back here tomorrow around eight. I know it's early, but we'll be able to get there before the crowds do.'

After Bernard had left, the room seemed to be inflated with silence. Neither Whit nor his mother seemed to be able to put their thoughts to words. His mother opened and closed her mouth several times before finally saying: 'Let's put those folders for other schools in the bin, shall we?' This seemed to have broken the ice. Both Whit and his mother suddenly started talking.

'Can you believe it? Dragons! Real dragons! And centaurs too.'

'Do you think I would have to learn other languages?'

'Where do you think the school is located? Could it be guarded by the monster of Loch Ness?' After dumping the last of the folders into the bin, Whit turned around. His mother was crying. 'Mom, what's wrong?'

'Nothing dear', she said between sniffs, Up to today, I had been worried sick about whether I was going to be able to afford sending you to a good school. Now, it feels like everything's changed.' She enveloped Whit into a gigantic hug that made him feel like she was trying to squeeze every bit of breath out of him.

The next day, Whit and his mother were up early. They had a nice breakfast with beans in tomato sauce on bread and were ready to do some shopping. At exactly eight o'clock, Bernard showed up, knocking on the door the same way he had done last time. Whit opened the door and tried to suppress a grin. Bernard was dressed in a blue sweater that had a large picture of a reindeer on the front. His pants were honey-coloured and fastened with a snake-leather belt. Whit's mother gave him an intrigued look that made him blush. Apparently, only then did he realize the oddness of his attire.

'Uhm, Whit, great to see you again. Are you ready for your first steps into the wizarding world?'

Whit had spent three hours in bed last night thinking of stories he had heard of and that he was told were imaginary. What if some of them were real? What if all of them were real? What if there really were gods and spirits? What if there really were elves and dwarves? Whit had fallen asleep, still clutching his copy of 'The Hobbit'.

'Yes, Bernard.' Whit replied. 'I'm more than ready.'

Bernard then turned to Whit's mother. After a moment of silence, he said: 'Err.. Lovely to see you again, Susan. I'm sure you'll find the trip just as exhilarating as Whit will.' After that, they set out for Diagon Alley. Bernard told them it was only a few blocks away. Whit walked in the centre, his mother on his left, Bernard on his right. Bernard navigated them through several streets until they rounded a corner and came onto the Charing Cross Road.

'Now, Whit', Bernard said, 'I'm going to have to ask you to hold you mother's hand. Muggles can't see the entrance, and if we go in, she'll just see us disappear.' Whit grabbed his mother's hand and together, they advanced.

'Do you see the sign of a little pub nearby? It's quite small and hardly visible if you don't know where to look.'

Whit squinted his eyes and scanned the road. It was filled with big, sombre houses. It was an old street, probably built a few hundred years ago. The houses were made of dark stone, with little windows and hard contours. In the middle of the street, between two shops hung an old, rusty sign.

'That's it', Bernard said, 'The Leaky Cauldron. It has been the doorway to Diagon Alley for more than five hundred years now.' Together, they walked up to the pub. Whit's mother was still trying to locate the pub, even when she was standing three feet away from it. Bernard opened the door and held it there, letting Whit and his mother in.

Whit couldn't believe his eyes. The pub wasn't exactly filled, but the barman's clientele was among the weirdest Whit had ever seen. Three old wizards wearing black hats and capes were seated in the back, heads pressed together and whispering to each other. A young woman was seated at the bar, drinking a glass of what looked like brandy, but it was green and had little … things floating in it. The barman, an old, bald man, looked up at them curiously and made a slight nod towards Bernard. He nodded back curtly. The barman resumed his normal activity, which apparently consisted of staring at the floorboards.

'Funny, isn't it?' Bernard whispered, 'Let's go and see if we can find you some school supplies.' Bernard dashed forward through the pub, leading Whit and his mother to the backdoor. After going through it, Whit saw that it opened out into a small clearing, lined on all sides with high walls of stone.

'Huh,' Whit's mother said jokingly, 'I had imagined more shops.'

Bernard chuckled. 'Just wait and see. I'll do the magic.' He pulled out his wand and walked towards the wall opposite the door. Placing his wand-tip on one of the stones, he turned around and said: 'Be ready to set your first steps into the wizarding world.' Bernard quickly tapped several other stones after the first. When he tapped the last one, the stones started to sink into the wall. First the ones he had tapped with his wand, then others, and then even more, until all the stones were sinking into the wall or moving out of it and travelling to the sides. Whit could hear voices and shouts coming from behind the wall now. A small opening formed, through which light shone. The opening widened, and a wide street came into view filled with people wearing robes and pointed hats.

'Prancing Palegrino's,' Bernard said, 'I guess we weren't the only ones who decided to make off with an early start.' He looked at Whit and his mother. 'Impressive, eh. Come on, let's go. This opening isn't going to wait for us all day.'

And that's how Whit found himself walking in Diagon Alley for the first time. Still holding his mother's hand, he couldn't decide what to look at, as everything seemed to be so fantastic. For a moment, he wished he'd had an extra set of eyes, but he realized quickly enough that where he was now, that might even be possible. His gaze fell from one shop's window to the other. Passing from 'Quality Quidditch Supplies' (whatever that might be) on to 'Madam Malkin's Robes for all occasions'. Bernard steered them through the crowd toward a big, white building that looked like it had been hewn from a rock. Bernard prodded Whit and his mother in.

'This is Gringotts, the wizarding bank,' he explained, 'Wizards have their own currency, so you will have to exchange your pounds and pennies into their Galleons, Knuts and Sickles. It's a one to one trade and you can always trade back to Muggle currency when you're finished.'

Bernard pointed out a long line in front of a desk that had the sign 'Pound to Galleon Exchanges' above it. They queued in, silently waiting for the row to move on. It took quite a while, and while they waited, Whit decided to look around. Gringotts had a high ceiling, at least three times higher than other buildings had. There were people everywhere, queuing in lines in front of different desks. Several lines were quite packed, like those in front of the 'Withdrawal', the 'Safekeeping' and the 'higher level vaults' desks. The air was quite fresh, but there was a scent he couldn't really put his finger on. It reminded him of the air in the stairwell of their apartment. It smelled old, as though it had been hanging there for months. The smell got progressively stronger as the queue moved on. Bernard had taken the time to explain exactly how much each coin was worth.

'How much do you think we'll need to exchange, Bernard?' his mother asked softly, 'How much will everything cost?'

Bernard closed his eyes and seemed to be making some sore of calculation in his mind. 'Taking in account just the bare essentials, like books, robes and a wand, I'd say about a hundred pounds would surely be enough for a year.' Whit saw his mother flinch at the sound of that much money. She'd gone to an ATM machine around seven o'clock and withdrawn just about as much money as she could. That included every bit of savings she had done in the last couple of years.

'May I offer a suggestion?', Bernard asked hesitantly, 'Don't take this the wrong way, but a few years back, the ministry made a deal with goblins of Gringotts. Parents of children that go to school at Hogwarts can request a special students-loan. Say you take out a loan for twenty galleons. You will be allowed to pay that loan down in exactly one year, with a monthly interest of ten percent. The ministry tried to get them to lower their prices, but alas, goblins remain goblins...'

'What about goblins, baldy?'

Whit looked up. The desk ran up much higher than any other desk he had seen before, and all the way on top was perched a creature he could never have imagined to be real. His skin was dark and wrinkled, like paper bag tossed in a bin. He (if it even was a he) had a long, pointed nose and penetrating, harsh eyes that looked down on every customer that came before him. Whit noticed he was staring at the creature.

'And wha'tcha ogling me for, boy? Never seen a goblin before?'

Whit didn't know what to say. He tried to pry his eyes off of the goblin, but couldn't seem to manage it. The goblin looked at Bernard. 'First year, huh? Now, are you going to make an exchange or waste more of my time?'

After a few minutes, Whit came out of Gringotts carrying several shiny gold, silver and copper coins. Bernard and his mother were walking behind him, quietly going through the details of the loan his mother had just taken out. When they got back into the throng in Diagon Alley, Bernard steered them further along, deciding that buying a wand might be the best thing to do first. They passed through the thick crowds and entered a shop at the very end of the street, called Ollivander's.

It was a narrow shop, with mostly artificial light as high piles of boxes were stacked up all around the walls, even in front of the windows. There were three other people there. The first was a tall, broad-shouldered man, wearing black robes. He had a long grey beard that made him look ages old. He was holding the charred remains of his wand up to another man for inspection. Whit heard them talking about a dragon. Before he could find out what had happened to the man's wand though, the shopkeeper came up to them. He was a short man, with watery, round eyes. He was limping.

'Good day to you all,' he said slyly, 'how can I be of service?'

'We're here to equip this boy', Bernard said, pointing at Whit, 'for his first year at Hogwarts.'

'Well', the shopkeeper said, 'you've come to the right place. My name is Mr. Ollivander and I can assure you, you won't be able to find a better wand shop than mine.' Mr. Ollivander put his arm around Whit and steered him into the centre of the room.

'Before we can proceed, I'll have to take some measurements. You know, just like a tailor does.' Whit nodded in agreement. Mr. Ollivander took out a tape measurer and took some of his measurements, like the length of his arms, his legs and his height. All the while, he kept saying things like 'Hmm, very interesting', 'I see, I see' and 'Well, that was to be expected'. Whit had the feeling like he was being examined under a microscope. He wasn't quite sure if he liked it.

'Right,' Mr. Ollivander said after measuring the length of his lower arm, 'I think I can find the perfect wand for you.' He scurried off into the back of the store and took out one of the boxes against the wall. When he came back, he opened it. 'Try this. Its core is a dragon's heartstring. The wood is ash and it's twelve inch.' Whit picked it up and held it. Mr. Ollivander probably saw the confusion in his eyes, so he said: 'Just, you know, wave it around a bit. Try doing some magic with it.'

Whit pointed it at a chair and closed his eyes. Nothing happened. He pointed it again. Mr. Ollivander snatched the wand from his hands and placed it gingerly back in the box. 'Nope. Moving on. It might take a while to find the right wand.' He scurried back quickly and placed the box back where it came from. Then, he walked over to a pile of boxes near the door and extracted one.

'Try this one,' he said, 'eleven inch, bowtruckle-wing core in flexible beech wood. Fine handle. Excellent for charms.' Whit took it out and pointed it at the chair again. Still nothing. After waving it around for some time, Mr. Ollivander gave up and put it back in the box. As he stowed it back, he told them he'd spent nearly ninety minutes last week trying to find the correct wand for a girl that would start attending Hogwarts this year too. His mother and Bernard sat down in two luxurious chairs beside the counter while Whit was given countless wands to try. All of them had special cores, different types of wood and flexibilities. Dragon heartstring, unicorn tail, mermaid's hair, grindylow antenna. Oak, beech, ash, willow. Nothing seemed to work. Every time Whit tried a wand, there was no effect. And every time that happened, Mr. Ollivander would put the wand back into a box and search the store for a new one. His mother and Bernard had gone off for ice creams after an hour and by the time Whit had finished his, Mr. Ollivander finally sighed deeply.

'You've proven to be a hard customer, Mr. Glacius', Mr. Ollivander said after taking yet another wand back from him, 'but I'd be surprised indeed if I can't find one for you.' He sighed and looked around his store. Most boxes had been opened by now, even special ones with unique properties. His eyes lingered on the counter for a moment, and he hastily shook with his head. Whit had even held a long, 20-inch wand he would have had to wield with both hands had it actually done something in them. Mr. Ollivander even took out the wand lying in the display for him, an ancient thing that looked like it would fall apart. It had done the same as all the wands before it: nothing.

'Is he even a wizard at all?' Mr Ollivander snapped after another two hours of searching. His face had turned red after walking around his store for hours. Bernard explained that he had personally delivered the acceptance letter. Mr. Ollivander sighed and took out another box from the wall. He was about to give it when he realized he had already given Whit a try with it. He stowed the wand back fiercely.

'I've gone through every wand that could possibly fit him. I've even let him have a go with a giant's wand. It can't be true that I've finally met my match.'

Mr. Ollivander walked a circle in his shop, looking at different boxes and muttering to himself. Whit noticed Mr. Ollivander started glancing at the counter more and more often, every time shaking his head. After a while, he sat down in the chair Whit had been pointing his wand at all morning long and let out a deep sigh. Again, his eyes darted towards the counter.

'I've tried them all,' he said, 'Every wand that could possibly fit a boy like you has been tested and doesn't work. That can mean either of two options. Firstly, it could mean that I don't have a suitable wand for you, which I personally don't believe. Secondly, that could mean that there _isn't _a wand for you. Which would indicate you are either not a wizard after all, or-'

Whit, his mother, and Bernard each moved forward to find out the last possibility. Mr. Ollivander kept shaking his head, muttering things like, 'that can't be', or 'too improbable'. Suddenly, he stood up.

Mr. Ollivander silently walked over to his counter and from behind it, took out a small chest. It looked sturdy and it had iron braces all over its sides. Mr. Ollivander took out his wand and tapped the chest. Slowly, the lid opened and revealed another chest. He tapped that too. It sprang open, revealing yet another chest. Mr. Ollivander continued to open chests like a Russian doll until at last he opened the last one, a tiny chest barely big enough to hold a piece of paper. He pulled out a piece of cloth, ragged, dirty and smeared. Holding the cloth in a most delicate way, he walked forward again, showing it to Whit. Bernard and Whit's mother joined them.

'This', Mr. Ollivander said, 'is the Celtic sign for water. I want you to picture it in your mind and then draw it with your hand. When you do, think of water. Start at the centre' Mr. Ollivander snapped his fingers and two servants came out of the storeroom, holding wands at the ready. He took out his own too. Whit stared at the picture and then closed his eyes. It was a clockwise spiral. It was easy enough to remember. It made him think of a fire hose. With that image in his head, Whit stuck out his hand and drew the symbol in the air.

When his hand completed the spiral, the most curious of things happened. Where his right hand had been only seconds before, now shone a golden spiral, exactly the way he had drawn it. The end of the spiral drifted a bit off to the side. It shimmered gold for a moment than vanished. Immediately, a jet of water erupted from where the symbol had just been, spouting forcefully into one the boxed walls. It receded almost as quickly as it had started, as though someone had just closed the tap. Mr. Ollivander conjured up some sponges and a bucket, while his servants dried the boxes with a flick of the wrist.

'That explains a lot', Mr. Ollivander said, 'you have a very rare gift, young lad.'

'What just happened?' Bernard immediately interjected, 'Every wizard needs a wand to perform magic, don't they?'

Mr. Ollivander walked back towards his counter and replaced the piece of cloth. Still silent, he closed each lid of the chests that were piled up and locked them with a tap of his wand. After locking the last lid, he put the chests back under the counter.

'I've only opened those chests once before in my life', he said, turning to them, 'and that one time turned out the same result. Mrs. Glacius, you have a very special son. Your son isn't just a wizard, he is also a 'Wandless'. A Runemage.

Bernard's eyes had widened in shock. He stood there, opening and closing his mouth several times before saying: 'Are you sure?' Mr. Ollivander nodded. He had a smile on his face. 'Perhaps only one in every ten thousand wizards is a a runemage. It's even rarer than Metamorphism and "Hollow man syndrome". Hogwarts will need to be informed so they can make the appropriate arrangements. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to check the damages on my wares. Please come again.' Whit was quite sure he wouldn't.

Once outside, Bernard took Whit and his mother by the hand. He ushered them into a corner of the street, where the crowd wasn't as dense.

'Listen,' he whispered, 'this doesn't change anything. You'll still be allowed to go to school without any trouble.'

'Why wouldn't Whit be allowed to go to school? Mr. Ollivander clearly said he was a wizard.'

Bernard nodded. 'You're right. He is. Let's not forget that. For the time being, I think it would be best if we keep this from spreading. We wouldn't want people to start talking about this. Let's just finish our shopping and go back to your apartment. I'll fill you in as best as I can when we get there.'

It was two o'clock when they started shopping, and they spent the following hour shopping for robes, books and ingredients. Shops that had seemed incredible had suddenly lost that brilliant edge they'd had before they went into Ollivander's. Whit kept thinking back about that moment that he saw the golden spiral hanging in the air. After brandishing sticks for hours, he had started to become less convinced he was a wizard. He had nearly given up hope of ever going to a wizarding school until that sign in the air had restored his faith. _I _am _a wizard. I don't care if I have to use a wand or not. I'll be the best wizard that ever set foot there._

Back home, Whit crashed into the sofa. His feet were aching. After five hours of shopping, Whit's legs felt like they would come off. Bernard had gone off for a while, saying he had to make some arrangements with the ministry. Whit and his mother had walked home alone. Bernard had taken the supplies they had bought with him, promising them that he would stop by before eight to explain them some things. It was eight forty-five when he finally knocked on the door. Whit's mother stood up from her chair and opened the door.

'Ah, Susan,' he said with a sigh, 'Merlin, am I glad to be gone from there.'

'Hmm, yes. You're late,' she said curtly. Bernard was about to sit in Whit's mother's comfortable chair when Whit saw her open her mouth in objection. Before she could say anything though, Bernard said: 'I've been busy at the ministry, trying to arrange everything for Whit. Since his … talent is rather rare they had to find a teacher for him at the last minute. I had to pull up data for every known runemage that has been registered in Europe for the last hundred years.' Whit's mother closed her mouth again, swallowing her objection. She sat down next to Whit, putting her arms around him.

'What's so special about being a Wandless?' Whit asked.

'I know very little about this subject,' Bernard said, 'Few do. I spent a while at the ministry getting some more information about it, but what little I could find wasn't very clear. What I do know, is that most wizards don't trust the Wandless very much. Some people even fear them.'

'Why would they fear them?' Whit's mother asked, 'They're just as much a wizard as the rest.'

Bernard rubbed his forehead. He looked worn out. 'A lot of wizards picture the Wandless as betrayers. I don't know exactly why, but it has something to do with their history. I dropped my History of Magic course after my third year, so I don't really know anything about that. I couldn't find anything on it at the ministry either.'

'Apart from their image as betrayers,' Bernard continued, 'some wizards fear them, as they can do magic whenever they want. Ordinary wizards need their wands to do magic. Snap a wizard's wand, and he's practically a muggle until he can obtain another. The Wandless don't have this reliability, this inherent weakness that all wizards possess. That gives them an important edge in duels. They can also do magic unexpectedly. Where a regular wizard needs to grab his wand, a Wandless can start casting right away. Combining that with the image of being betrayers, most wizards shy away from runemages, thinking of them as dangerous and unpredictable people.'

The following morning was just like any other morning, except that Bernard had left his new school supplies into the living room. He spent a few hours going through the books, reading up on different fields of magic. The first book he had opened was called: _'The standard book of spells, grade I_' by Miranda Goshawk. It was filled with literally hundreds of spells that ranged from making a fire to causing steam to come from the end of a wand-tip. He went over to '_A History of Magic_' by Bathilda Bagshott. After reading about the goblin rebellion in 432 B.C. He decided to put it down. Ten minutes of reading had already given him a headache. He moved on, trying on a set of his school robes and going through the different potion ingredients. It was quite a lot of fun to go through his new supplies, so before he knew it, it was late in the evening and he was sitting at the table, reading '_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration'_ by Emeric Switch. He could already see this was a subject he would find fascinating. The book, like most others, had moving pictures, one of them showing a needle that was being transfigurated. _I'd go to Hogwarts even if they could only teach me how to do that. This is going to be so great._


	3. Headed Towards a New Beginning

Chapter III: Heading towards a new beginning

It was a cold evening on August the thirty-first. Whit was in bed, daydreaming about what Hogwarts would look like. Bernard, who had stopped by on several occasions since they had visited Diagon Alley, had told him that it was a castle, and that it had impressive grounds. There was a forbidden forest, a black lake and even a quidditch pitch, which, as Bernard had told Whit, was a very popular sport in the wizarding community. He had also told Whit that students were divided between four 'houses', each valuing different aspects in people.

Whit was lying in his bed, thinking about what was to come tomorrow. His acceptance letter specifically told him to go to King's Cross Station and board a train there, at 11 o'clock. In all fairness, he was starting to get a bit of mixed feelings about leaving. It would be the last he would see of his mother until at least the Christmas break. Since they had never gone on a vacation in their lives, they had never even spent a night apart. _I wonder what it would be like, spending the year without my mum. _That wasn't the only thing that was bothering him though. Something else was starting to gnaw on his mind. Something he had hoped would not happen. _I'll be the only wizard in the entire school without a wand. What if I get teased again? I just got out of eight years of that. I hope they'll leave me alone._ His mind replayed some of the things Bernard had said. _People generally don't trust a Wandless. Some even fear them. _Whit spent the entire evening and a part of the night mulling on this. _What if I don't have any friends? What if the entire school will pick on me?_

Whit woke up groggily from lack of sleep the next morning. His mother was prodding his sides, telling him to hurry up. 'It's eight o'clock now, Whit. It'll take us an hour to get to King's Cross and another hour to pack up all your belongings. You don't want to miss the train on your first day of school, do you?'

Whit rolled out of bed and stumbled into the shower. After a few minutes, his mother turned on the hot water in the kitchen. If Whit wasn't wide-awake before, she'd made sure he was now. Whit stepped out of the shower carefully and dried himself off with a towel. He got dressed.

After that, he looked into the mirror. There he was, eleven years old, rather short for his age with round, blue eyes. He had inherited those from his mother. His nose was round and rather big, though less prominent than his mother's. That wasn't the main focus though. What really defined his appearance was his white hair, currently cropped rather short. Whit had been born with absolutely white hair, even his eyebrows. It was the reason why kids at school had affectionately dubbed him 'snowcone'. It was currently standing out in all directions and it was still damp from showering. _I don't see what all the fuss is about. What's so special about white hair?_ His mother had named him Whit because of his white hair. It was a freak coincidence that his surname also happened to be Glacius. The doctors thought Whit was an albino at first, but his blue eyes ruled that out. They hadn't been able to find a reason for it, so in the end, they claimed it to be his natural hair colour and that perhaps it was a genetic thing.

'Honey?', his mother called out from the living room, 'are you dressed yet?'

'Yes mother.'

'Good', she said, opening the door to the bathroom, 'I bought you something.'

'What is it?' Whit asked, as his mother opened one of the cupboards in the bathroom. She pulled out a long tube. 'Hairstyling gel. Now let me make your hair a bit neater. You want to make a good first impression, right?'

Two minutes later, Whit's mother had transformed his hair from a damp mess to a nice looking coupe. She had pushed his hair forward, shaping it into a very fashionable style.

Bernard came in around nine thirty, wearing a buttoned up shirt, a pair of faded jeans and again, white sports socks in sandals.

'Are you ready for your first day at school?'

_Am I? God, I hope I'll make some friends._ 'Yes, Bernard', he replied weakly. Bernard smiled at him and then turned to Whit's mother. 'How about you, Susan? Are you ready for Whit's first day at school?'

'I hope so. It'll be odd going back home, knowing Whit isn't going to be there.' She smiled at Whit momentarily and then turned around quickly to pack the rest of his belongings.

They arrived at King's Cross Station around ten forty-five, making good time.

'What platform did the letter say again?' Whit's mother asked him.

'Nine and three-quarters', Bernard replied, 'I'll help you get there.'

'Nine and three-quarters?' Whit's mother asked, 'I've only seen platforms nine and ten here.'

'Due to the amount of 'our people' on the platform, the ministry had decided to hide the platform from muggles. It's accessible only by running straight through that blank stretch of wall there, between platforms nine and ten.'

'You want us to walk headfirst into a wall? I'm not quite sure if I'll see anything after that.'

Bernard smiled and looked around. 'Right, the platforms are relatively calm at the moment. Let me show you.' Turning around, Bernard ran full tilt towards the brick wall. Whit was about to try and make him stop when he saw Bernard pass through the wall instead of colliding with it. A few seconds later, he came back, this time leisurely walking through it.

'It all comes down to belief,' he said when he rejoined them, 'If you believe you can walk through it, than you can. Both of you saw me doing it, so you both know that it's possible. Why don't you go first, Whit? I'm sure you'll be eager to try it firsthand.'

Whit put down his luggage and took a deep breath. _I hope it works. I don't want to be the only one this magic doesn't work on. _After another deep breath, Whit started running. Only ten most steps and he'd be at the wall. _It sure looks solid._ Five more steps. _If Bernard can do it, so can I._ One more step. _God, I'm going to die._

Whit stretched out his leg and felt it passing though the air. The wall that had seemed so solid at first vanished from sight and was replaced by another platform. Before he could stop, he suddenly saw a cart coming up from his right. Unable to stop, he toppled over it and crashed down on top of two identical sets of luggage. He got up immediately, apologizing for his mistake. When he did, he saw a pair of identical twins looking at him furiously.

'Next time', the left one of the pair said, 'mind the road a bit more, shit-for-brains.'

'Yes', the right one of the pair said, 'or there won't be a next time.' After setting their luggage back on the cart, they walked away. _Now there's a great way to make friends..._

'Are you okay?' he heard someone say from behind, 'that looked rather painful.'

He turned around. In front of him was a boy of his age, short cropped hair, deep-set brown eyes and big ears. He was wearing a green shirt with embroidered leaves on it and baggy jeans. He had smooth skin and carried a purple backpack on his back.

'I'm fine, I landed on their luggage.'

'Good', he said with a rather high voice, 'Are you a first year too?'

'Yes, my name is Whit Glacius.'

'Wow, that's a cool name. My parents named me Dakota. Ughh.' He made a gesture that looked like he was going to puke. 'My name is Dakota Miller.'

'Pleased to meet you, Dakota. I like your name too.'

'Thanks. Listen, my parents are asking me to come, I have to go. Perhaps I'll see you on the train.'

Whit watched Dakota walk to his parents. He had a big father, at least six feet tall, wearing a black suit. He didn't wear sandals. He was looking around the platform until he saw Dakota arrive. 'Ah there you are, princess.' _Princess?_ 'I want to give my darling daughter one more hug before she leaves.' _Daughter?_

Whit turned around when he heard footsteps behind him. His mother and Bernard came running through the doorway, his mother with her eyes closed.

'She nearly didn't want to go', Bernard said, 'but I managed to convince her.' Bernard had taken Whit's suitcase with him too, he noticed. Together, they crossed the platform and said their goodbyes.

'Promise me you'll do the best you can.'

'I promise mom. I'll make you proud.'

His mother was crying by the time he boarded the train. He entered an empty compartment and put his trunk up in the overhead luggage racks. His mother was standing in front of the window, blowing kisses to him and mouthing 'good luck' to him. Whit smiled back and waved at his mother. _When the train departs, I won't be able to see her for a while. I'll make sure I'll be the best. I'll make sure my mother is proud of me._

Ten minutes later, the train jerked into motion. Whit wasn't the only one in the compartment anymore. Dakota was there too, smiling and waving at her parents. Another boy was sitting in front of him. He was rather fat, with round cheeks and bread crumbs all over his shirt, which was large enough to be able to fit three Whits. His skin was rather dark, with black hair and dark-brown eyes. He was waving goodbye to his parents too. His father looked like he was Italian, with a big nose, and equally dark eyes. His mother had a lighter skin colour, but it was still a tinge too dark for her to be British.

Everyone on the platform was either crying or waving frantically. His mother's cheeks were completely wet now, her eyes puffy and red from crying. Whit could already feel a bit of homesickness coming up.

'So what's you name?' Dakota asked the fat boy. 'You're a first year too, right?'

'Yes, I am. My name is Adam Azurro'. Dakota reached out and shook his hand. My name is Dakota and this here is Whit. We met on the platform earlier.'

'I see. Pleased to meet you too.' Adam opened his backpack and reached out for some candy. He pulled out a jar of brightly beans and opened the jar. 'Every-flavour bean anyone?'

Dakota reached out and took a yellow one. She popped it into her mouth and sucked it for a while. 'Lemon'.

'I guess you got lucky there. That could have been grain flavoured. I got one of those once. Never touched the yellow ones ever since.'

'Are they really every flavour?' Whit asked hesitantly.

'Yup. They come in every flavour, from tree bark to candyfloss, from Brussels sprouts to turpentine. You never know what you're going to get.'

Whit tried one. He picked a violently pink one. After popping it into his mouth, he realized it was bubblegum-flavoured.

'Let's see what I'll get', Adam said as he pulled a red bean from his jar, 'Ughh. Raspberry. I hate that flavour.'

They spent the next hour popping Berty Blott's Every-flavour beans in their mouths. Whit had taken a dare on eating a completely black one that Adam told him he was sure would be a dung flavoured one. It turned out to be liquorice. Dakota had taken a white one that she claimed had tasted like marble. Whit wondered what marble tasted like.

'So', Adam said while chewing some chocolate, 'what house do you think you'll be put in?'

Whit had given this a considerable amount of thought during the nights he spent lying awake on his bed. There were four houses, each accepting only those it had interest in. Bernard had told him quite a lot about the houses. The house Ravenclaw valued intelligence, and thus only received the most intelligent students. Hufflepuff house received all loyal, hard-working students. Gryffindor was the house for the valiant and the brave, and Slytherin's doors were only open for the most ambitious. Whit had thought about what house would suit him best, and had decided that either Hufflepuff or Slytherin would be best. He wasn't the most intelligent of the class, and certainly wasn't valiant. Whit wanted to make his mother proud, and would achieve it by working hard. If that meant Hufflepuff or Slytherin, than so be it.

'I'm a half-blood,' Dakota said, 'My mother was a witch, and her mother before her, all the way back to the beginning of my family. They were all sorted into Ravenclaw. I hope I'll make it into Ravenclaw too.'

The compartment door flew open before Whit had time to ask what a 'half-blood' was. There was a girl standing in the opening. She had golden, flowing hair, reaching down to her waist. She was chewing some gum and had her head tilted to the side, emphasising her mane of gold even more. She had a very pretty face, with round, blue eyes surrounded by thick, full eyelashes. They were blacker than Whit had ever seen on another girl. Her eyes fell over the compartment and stopped at Adam whom, Whit noticed, was staring at her with an open mouth. Her nose wrinkled as if she was standing near the loo.

'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I was looking for the compartment with the popular people.'

Whit only had time to exchange glances with Dakota before she closed the door again and was off.

'Right,' Dakota whispered. 'That was blunt.'

Adam was still staring at the compartment door as though he had just seen it come to life and order coffee. It took him nearly a minute to shake himself back to the conversation and even then, he was only half-heartedly listening.

A faint smile crept up on Dakota's face. 'I doubt if she's going to make a lot of friends, going into every compartment like that.'

Whit knew Dakota was wrong there. Popularity, he had found out, was a formidable enemy. There had been a girl in his former class called Sheila. She was the most beautiful and popular girl in his class. Every boy vied for her attention, every girl for a place next to her in her spotlight. She was one of Robert's first devotees, using her popularity to get the entire class to 'join the good cause'.

Whit remembered that she had pushed him into a ditch once. When the teacher came to punish her, she put up an innocent smile, claiming it to have been an accident. The teacher never punished her.

'Anyway,' Dakota resumed, 'both my mother and my gran are rooting for me to become a Ravenclaw. It's been a family tradition for ages. They even bought me a suitable pet, a magpie. It's been brought to Hogwarts already.'

Adam was recovering slightly by now. He started rummaging through his backpack again, looking for something on the bottom. Whit noticed he was still looking at the door whenever someone passed it.

Adam extracted a small box from his backpack. He opened it and took out one of the things inside.

'Chocolate Frog anyone?' he said, 'I've been collecting for ages now. Nearly got the entire first series complete, save Hengist of Woodcroft and Ptolemy. My collection of the second series is going along well too.'

Adam unwrapped the candy and, to Whit's surprise, took out a squirming, brown frog. It was trying it's best to get out of Adam's grip, but it was to no avail. He bit the head off in one clean bite.

Dakota reached into the box Adam was holding out and took one of the chocolate frog cards. She opened the wrapper and shoved the squirming frog into her mouth too. She then flipped the wrapper in her hands and extracted a card from it.

'Clive McAllistair.' she read aloud. 'Feared serial killer that used trained hinkypunks to lure his victims.'

Adam snorted. 'And not to mention on a card found nine out of ten times.'

Whit reached out for the box and took out a random candy. He undid the wrapper and, with some difficulty, managed to take a bite out of one of its paws. The chocolate tasted very rich and left a nice afterglow in his mouth. He opened the wrapper further and peered at the card in his hands.

A young man was on it. He looked like he was trying to blend in with his surroundings. He had raven-black hair that stood up at one side. Whit noticed that he had green eyes and a scar on his forehead.

'Harry Potter.' Whit read aloud. 'The Boy Who Lived, only known survivor of the Avada Kedavra curse and conqueror of Lord Voldemort, also known as Tom Riddle. Head of the Auror Department in the Ministry of Magic.'

Adam snatched the card out of Whit's hand immediately, and Dakota gave a sharp intake of breath that notified Whit that his card was special.

'Harry Potter!' Adam said half-wailing. 'I've been trying to find someone who would want to trade me for one of those for ages. I can't believe I had one in the box and gave it away.'

'You can have it.' Whit said. 'I don't collect these cards.'

Adam's face went through several expressions before settling with 'Gleeful'. Whit thought he recognised 'shock', 'disbelief' and 'shock' again. Dakota was looking at the card with eager eyes, probably wishing she had picked that wrapper from the box.

'Why is he so valuable?' Whit asked. 'Is he famous?'

'All wizards and witches on the chocolate frog cards are.' Dakota explained. 'My mother said it was a great honour to be selected, and they started a whole new set of cards just to be able to add Harry Potter to it.'

Adam took out a notebook from his backpack and gingerly placed the card between two of its pages. He then placed the notebook in it with equal care.

'Not all cards show up as often as others' he explained. 'I think the popularity and importance of the witch or wizard on it has something to do with it. There's only a handful of people that have ever gotten a 'Harry Potter' out of a box.'

After talking for a while, Dakota reached into her backpack for a book and started reading. Adam took out his notebook again, looking reverently at his newest chocolate frog card. Whit spent some time looking out the window. They weren't in London anymore. There were hills outside, and in the distance, Whit thought he could see mountains. He had a good feeling for direction, and knew they were travelling up the map, in northern direction. The train was moving fast, passing through the country land on a sinuous route.

Whit wondered what his mother would say if she was there with him. This set off a pang of guilt in his mind. He had spent more than a few hours away from her and he realized this was actually the first time he had thought of her. He redoubled his determination to be as good a wizard as he could be. _If I come back to mum as a great wizard, I'm sure she's going to be thrilled._

Whit opened his bag and took out his copy of _'A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration'_ for the hundredth time already. He loved looking at the pictures, reading the descriptions and techniques that would be needed to transfigure one object into another. He had read most of the book already, and it really didn't seem like such a hard subject.

'Ughh' Adam said suddenly. 'I can't believe you're actually reading that book. I don't understand heads or tails from anything it says.'

'Really?' Whit asked. 'It doesn't seem so difficult to me.'

Adam flipped the book open on page twelve, the first page containing a transfiguration spell.

'Look at the wand movements that you have to perform only to change the match into a needle. This stuff is so complex.'

Adam opened the forward compartment of his backpack and extracted a wand from it.

'This is the wand I bought at Ollivander's.' he said proudly. 'It's nine-and-a-half inch, oak with a sphinx tailhair in it. Mr. Ollivander claimed it was superb for charms.'

Dakota had taken out her wand too. It was very pale, slender and straight from handle to tip.

'Twelve inch, beech wood and unicorn hair.' she said. 'I was told it was an all-rounder.'

Both Adam and Dakota were looking expectantly at Whit. For a while, he didn't understand what they were waiting for. Suddenly, he realized they were waiting for him to show _his_ wand.

_Oh God. How do I start about this? _

Whit opened his mouth, but then the compartment door flew open. A large man stepped into the opening. He squinted at Dakota, frowned at Adam, and then leered at Whit. He was dressed in tight-fitting black robes with a white cloak hanging from his shoulders. The cloak was fastened at the front of his robes with two breeches, both made of gold and with a seven pointed star engraved in them.

'Stow those things away!' he growled at Adam and Dakota. 'You're not allowed to do magic yet!'

He regarded each of them critically, as though trying to see into their souls. Adam was nervously trying to stow his wand back in his backpack, clumsily shoving it down below his sweets.

'I would hope that you show your wand a bit more respect when you arrive at Hogwarts.'

Dakota had replaced her wand in the backpack and cowered under the man's stare, keeping her eyes firmly onto her feet.

'You'd better not be breaking any rules at Hogwarts, little kids.' he spat. 'While I'm there, I won't allow even a single mishap to occur. Break or bend a single rule, and you'll have me to answer to.'

Adam sank low in his seat while the man's iron stare was upon him. His eyes were bulging with fear. Slowly, the man turned his head and looked directly into Whit's eyes. Whit tried to look away, but the sheer intensity with which the white-cloaked man was looking at him prevented him from averting his eyes. His eyes narrowed slightly while his hand reached for the doorknob.

'I've heard that one of your kind would be on the train.' His voice was raw and menacing. He pointed the index finger of his free hand at Whit. 'Don't think that I'll lose you or that old codger from my sight for one moment.'

He then slammed the door shut and stormed through the corridor.

Whit still stared at the door after it had closed, uncertain about what had just happened. Several thoughts were racing his mind. _Who was that man? Is this the reaction I'm going to have with everyone? Won't anyone trust me because I'm a Wandless? I'm not a betrayer..._

Adam and Dakota were exchanging startled looks while Whit was still trying to make sense of that the man had said. _Who was 'that old codger' he was talking about? Is there another Wandless at school? Was that man a security officer at Hogwarts?_

'W-Whit?' Dakota asked cautiously. 'What did he mean by 'your kind'?'

'I'm a Wandless.' Whit said, knowing full well what the white-cloaked man meant with that. 'I'm a wizard that performs magic without a wand.'

Adam gulped loudly while Dakota's eyes became increasingly bigger.

'Blimey,' Adam whispered, more to himself than to everyone else, 'You're a runemage?'

'Yes.'

'But,' Dakota suddenly said, 'aren't they supposed to be like... betrayers? Don't they keep to themselves and all?'

Bernard had explained some of this to Whit too. Ordinary wizards had several ideas about what Wandless were like. Apart from being thought of as betrayers and as dark wizards, a lot of wizards also thought they were secretive. Bernard had dismissed most of this as rumours and back talk.

'No.' Whit said to Dakota, 'I'm not a betrayer, nor untrustworthy, nor secretive. And I'm certainly _not_ a dark wizard.'

Whit turned his head toward the window and stared outside. He could hear Dakota and Adam whispering to themselves. _If they don't want to trust me, than so be it. I'll just try to make different friends._

Adam tapped on his shoulder. 'You're muggleborn, aren't you?'

'S'cuse me?'

'It means both your father and mother are muggles.'

'So?'

'We thought so because you didn't know what Chocolate Frogs are.' Dakota interjected. 'I guess you can't be a dark wizard if you just found out about magic.'

Both Dakota and Adam were looking at Whit sympathetically. Dakota reached for her bag and pulled out her chocolate frog card.

'Here,' she said, offering it to Whit, 'So you can start your own collection.'

Whit accepted the chocolate frog card. It seemed to break the ice a little.

'Who was that man?' he asked.

Adam stood up and checked the door, making sure the man had gone out of earshot.

'That,' he said after closing the door, 'was a Whitecloak.'

'A what?'

'A Whitecloak. After the wizarding war, more than a decade ago, the new Minister of Magic created an organisation to help fight the dark wizards that had fled. They have certain special privileges. Everyone fears them, because one word from them can send you to prison.'

'Why would they need a Whitecloak on the train?' Dakota asked.

'Probably just a safety thing.' Adam reasoned. 'I assume he's on some errand for the ministry.'

Several hours passed before the intercom was turned on and a metallic voice announced that they would be arriving at Hogwarts in half an hour. Whit had spent most of his time reading in his transfiguration book. Adam had also given him some of his chocolate frog cards. Whit had insisted on reading each card through before going on to another. He had read about Marcus McCormac (legendary quidditch player that could play on any position), Yardley Platt (serial goblin killer) and Albus Dumbledore (Former Head master of Hogwarts).

'We'd better get into our school uniforms.' Dakota said. 'We'll be there soon.'

Whit couldn't believe that within an hour, he'd be there. _In thirty minutes, I'll be at the place where I'm going to learn how to do magic. _

They changed into their robes quickly. After that, each of them repacked their personal belongings. Whit was done considerably faster than Adam, whom had to throw away a mountain of candy wrappers. Dakota took her time too, neatly repacking her wand and books into her backpack. She fastened the top of her backpack with a big knot.

Whit saw that the train had been slowing down. During the ride, the grass right in front of the train was a blur. Now, he could make out individual patches if he moved his eyes fast enough. It had been darker outside for a while now. Whit estimated that they had been riding for at least five hours. The train slowed down even further when lights could be seen in the distance.

'That's the village of Hogsmeade.' Adam said, 'It's the only all-magical community in Britain.'

Whit saw that the train was lurching through a corner, and that the station was coming up right. He craned his neck against the window to see what it looked like. Dakota was standing next to him, also trying to get a good look at the station. All he could see was a small platform that sloped down slowly toward some carriages. There was a statue of a man on the platform, at least twice as high as a normal man.

'You guys ready for school?' Adam asked. He was still sitting next to his luggage. He had told them during the ride that his father had taken him to see Hogsmeade once.

'Sure,' Whit said. 'I can't wait to hear what house I'll be sorted into.'

_It doesn't really matter what house I'm in, as long as I can do my best in studies and become a good wizard. Perhaps I'll get sorted into Ravenclaw if I'm smart enough._

Once the train had stopped, the corridors became filled with students that were trying to get out of the train. Whit hadn't noticed just how many people were in this train. _Looks like there are more than a few hundred students here. I can't believe I'm one of them!_

Dakota and Whit were pushed aside twice by older students. One of them was wide-shouldered and had already whipped out his wand. A group of several girls filed past them immediately afterward, giggling and laughing as he made his way through the throng. It took them several minutes to exit the train.

'Firs' Years! Firs' year students! All of yer gather up right around me.'

Whit nudged Adam and Dakota and motioned them to follow him. The voice he had just heard was coming from the direction of the statue. After walking up to it and even checking behind it, he couldn't find the person that the voice belonged to. Several other kids were looking around to find the dismembered voice.

'Right, looks like we got ourselves a right few students this year' the dismembered voice said. 'Yeh lot ready fer yer firs' year at Hogwarts?'

It was only then that Whit realized where the voice was coming from. What Whit had thought of as a statue, instead was a giant of a man. As Whit looked up, he saw him looking down on them from behind a tangled beard.

The last few people were exiting the Hogwarts Express. Dakota nudged Whit in the ribs and pointed out a group of students coming from the back of the train.

'Looks like she found a group _worthy _of her attention...' Dakota whispered.

Whit looked in the direction that Dakota was pointing to. Sure enough, there she was, the pretty blond girl that had barged into their compartment. Four others accompanied her. Two of them were the twins Whit had run into at King's Cross. She was laughing rather enthusiastically. _Dakota can think what she wants, but this girl certainly knows what she's doing._

'The name's Hagrid.' The giant said when the train was empty. 'I'm Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. It's my job today ter get yeh lot to Hogwarts. C'mon, follow me everybody.'

Whit filed into the line of students following Hagrid. He led them down a narrow path, lined on both sides with trees. It wasn't a long walk, but the cobblestones made it hard for everyone to take their luggage along behind them. The path was twisty, bending around like a sinuous curve through the forest.

Hagrid began humming to himself. Apparently, he was quite enjoying himself. His big strides easily outdistanced everyone, but he waited for them at every turn and never lost sight of anyone.

'Hogwarts can be seen jus' round this bend here. Get ready ter be amazed.'

There was a collective intake of breath as the first students rounded the corner and caught their first glimpse of Hogwarts. Whit eagerly moved forward, craning his neck to see the school as soon as possible. It was everything he had imagined and more. The group let out several ooh's and aah's.

A waning moon illuminated the castle and grounds of Hogwarts with a pale sheen. It reflected off its turrets and towers, which stuck out at several different places, each of them defying gravity in its own, magical way. The grounds were mostly covered with grass and were sloped, like a sea of green. A dark lake edged the Hogwarts grounds. Lights were on in most of the castle, visible from their location only by tiny pinpoints of yellow light which had to be windows.

'That's me favourite moment of a new school year.' Hagrid said. 'Ter see the firs' years' faces when they look at Hogwarts for the firs' time. Come along then, follow me.'

Hagrid took them a little further, walking to the edge of the lake. There were a dozen boats lying there.

'No mor'n four per boat.'

Everyone cautiously lifted themselves and their luggage into the boat. Whit joined Adam and Dakota in one, leaving room for one more. The boats were quickly filling out with students. When the last group of first year students came to sit into a boat, Whit noticed that one of them would have to sit in his boat. It was the blond girl's group.

'I said no mor'n four per boat, lassy.' Hagrid said. He pointed at the boat Whit was in. 'Get in 'ter that one.'

The blond girl gave a deep sigh and walked over to Whit's boat in a surrendered way. Dakota gave a soft hiss to signify her discontent with the situation. She turned her head away and didn't spare her another glance.

On Hargid's command, each of the boats lurched forward. They sailed across the smooth surface of the water in a 'V' shape, the foremost boat containing Hagrid. Everyone was silently looking at the castle that slowly became bigger as the boats crossed the surface of the lake.

Hagrid, Whit noticed, made a small nod towards a white building on the grounds, just off the side of the lake. It looked like a tiny curtsey.

At the same time, Whit saw something dark and long from the corner of his eyes. More students had noticed it as it broke through the surface of the water. Then, it crashed down again, splashing water everywhere.

'What was _that_?', one of the students asked Hagrid. He sounded terrified.

'Nothin' big. Jus' the giant squid, comin' ter say hello.'

Adam was opening his backpack again, pulling out the notebook that held his treasured Chocolate Frog card. He flipped it open, counting the pages just like he had done several time before. He let out a deep sigh and immediately started rummaging further in his backpack.

'Oh no!' he said, 'where is it?'

After going through his backpack, he checked his pockets. He'd turned each of them inside out twice.

'Where did I put it?'

Adam stood up quickly, causing the boat to sway heavily back and forth, nearly toppling them over.

'What in the name of Merlin are you doing?' the blond girl said, 'we nearly fell out!'

'I can't find my chocolate frog card anymore!' Adam replied, 'We have to go back!'

'Wha's goin' on here?'

Hagrid had just manoeuvred his boat next to theirs. Whit noticed that every first-year was now looking at them.

'We have to go back!' Adam replied. He was visibly distressed now. 'I lost my chocolate frog card with Harry Potter on it. We have to go back so I can find it.'

'Sorry, kid. Can't do that fer jus' a card. You'll have to manage without.'

As the boats continued their path over the water, Adam sat in the rear of the boat, looking back across the lake as though he was about to jump in and swim back. Dakota had been silent the entire trip, sitting completely still and hunched over her backpack. Whit thought she might just be afraid of the water. The blond girl sat at the side, idly fingering a stray lock of her hair.

The boats slowly crept up to a small crack in the side of a cliff. It was a low cavern that stretched out into a long, dark tunnel. It took them deeply underground into a small chamber. It had a small pier that kept the tide out of a makeshift harbour.

After the boats had moored themselves, everyone clambered onto the gangplanks. Hagrid waited for everyone to gather themselves and their luggage up, then knocked on a massive, wooden door.


	4. Sorting Things Out

CHAPTER IV: Sorting things out.

The doors swung open into the castle. There was a dim, candlelit room behind it, with a single witch in the centre. At first, Whit thought she looked ageless. Her hair was grey, but her face was only slightly wrinkled. She was wearing dark-blue robes that flowed from her shoulders to her ankles and she was holding a cane.

'May I present the firs' years, Professor Trimble?' Hagrid said officially.

'Thank you, Rubeus. I'll take over from you now.'

She walked up to the group for first-year students. Whit noticed she had limp, causing her to sway from one side to the other as she walked. Some of the students, Whit saw, seemed nervous, others seemed eager.

'My name', the witch said, 'is Professor Trimble. Like every other teacher in this school, I will be addressed as Professor. It is my privilege to welcome you to your school. I will escort you all to the great hall, where you will be sorted between the four houses. For those who do not know, I'll explain this. The sorting of students between the four houses is the most important moment for you at this school. All students are divided among the four houses. You will spend all of your classes with the students from your house. You will sit at your house table during breakfast, lunch and dinner. You will sleep in your house's dorm. In short, they will be your family for the duration of your stay, here in Hogwarts. Good results and active participation in classes gain your house points. The house with the highest total of house points at the last day of school wins the house cup.'

Whit saw everyone nod at this. Apparently, everyone understood.

'Now, if you'll follow me,' Professor Trimble continued, 'we'll get started with the ceremony right away. Leave your luggage here please.'

In deep silence, the entire group followed Professor Trimble up a wide staircase. A knot was forming in Whit's stomach, and it grew tighter with every step. Not only had he no idea what the ceremony was (Bernard wouldn't tell him. He said he didn't want to spoil the surprise), he also didn't know if he would be sorted in a nice class. _What if I get sorted in a house with all the bullies?_

'Right,' Professor Trimble said when they arrived at a set of big, oak doors. 'Wait here please.' She quickly meandered off, her cane making little tapping noises on the flagstones as she did.

'So,' came a voice from behind the group, 'I hope nobody made friends yet.'

Everybody turned. One of the twins was grinning smugly.

'That's right, Jack.' the other said in reply. 'It'd be a shame to make friends with someone and than to get sorted into a different house. With all the rivalry going on between the houses, I doubt that friendship would last very long.'

For just a moment, Whit had a flashback of Robert. It was remarkable how much these two boys resembled him. The knot in Whit's stomach tightened considerably again. _I hope they won't bully me. Please don't bully me._

Then, the oak doors opened and revealed a big hall. There were four tables in it and each of them was populated by at least fifty students. All eyes were fixed on them.

'Enter please,' Professor Trimble said, 'And form a line along the wall.'

Each of the first years quickly moved out into the hall. When Whit entered it, he noticed that the hall had no ceiling. A fantastic display of rolling clouds over a star-sprangled sky was visible. Candles were hanging suspended in mid-air, bathing the room in a warm glow. At the end of the hall was another bench. It was the teachers' table, and all of Hogwarts' teachers were seated there, save Professor Trimble. She walked up to a wooden box that was placed in the corner of the room and took out an old hat and a three-legged stool. She placed the stool between them and the benches. Then, she sat the hat on top of it.

Slowly, the hat began to move. At first, only the tip of it moved, swaying slightly as though it got caught in the wind. Then, the brim moved, accompanied by a sound Whit thought came from its direction. Two dents in the fabric rose up, as though they were eyebrows.

_Oh you may not think me pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
_Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
_Set Gryffindors apart;_  
_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
_Where they are just and loyal,_  
_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
_And unafraid of toil;_  
_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
_if you've a ready mind,_  
_Where those of wit and learning,_  
_Will always find their kind;_  
_Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
_You'll make your real friends,_  
_Those cunning folks use any means_  
_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
_And don't get in a flap!_  
_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

'You will be called in alphabetical order.' Professor Trimble said, 'Please take place on the stool when your name is called out.'

Then, she waved her wand and conjured up a parchment.

'The first to come to the stool will be: Avery, Jack.'

One of the twins walked up to the stool and sat down on it. For all the calm that he tried to show, Whit noticed he was indeed nervous. His fingers were drumming his robes anxiously, and his foot was tapping the flagstone nervously. Suddenly, the brim of the hat moved.

'SLYTHERIN!'

A deafening roar of cheers erupted from the side of the hall as the Slytherin table celebrated their newest student. The other three tables groaned. Jake stood up and joined the Slytherin table with a wide grin on his face.

The cheers continued for quite a while, until Professor Trimble raised her hand to usher them into silence. Slowly, the rabble died out.

'Avery, Jake.'

The other of the twins walked up to the stool and sat down, planting the hat firmly on his head. Again, the Sorting Hat seemed to be thinking for a moment and yelled:

'SLYTHERIN!'

The groans from other tables were notably louder this time. The cheers from the outermost table in the hall drowned them though. Professor Trimble was again needed to get them silent. It took her considerably longer though, and she had to reprimand a few students for provoking the other tables.

Each time Professor Trimble went further down the list of students, the knot in Whit's stomach tightened. Professor Trimble had arrived at "Gingell, Susan", which was sorted (after a considerable amount time) into Gryffindor.

'Glacius, Whit'

Hesitantly, Whit walked up to the three-legged stool. It looked like it was ages old. He sat down and the Sorting Hat was placed on his head. It sagged down deep over his head.

'Let's see what we've got here.' A voice said in his head. It was the Sorting Hat's voice. 'I can see a bright mind there, that's for sure. And there's a lot of patience there. You're a hard worker too. Where will we send you?'

There's quite some potential in you,' the voice in his head continued, 'You could shine in any of the four houses.'

_I don't care about what house I get into. I just want to be a great wizard._

'Ahh,' the Sorting Hat said in his mind, 'Now I see what motivates you. Now I see what house should be yours. You're the most suitable material I've come across in years for-'

'SLYTHERIN!'

Another chorus of cheers rose up from the Slytherin table. He walked over to their table. He was greeted by a large group of Slytherins, most of them students from higher years. Whit sat down next to Jake, hoping that being sorted into his house would warm them up a little.

'Didn't expect you'd be sorted here, White-head.'

There was a slight edge to his voice that made it clear that he wasn't interested into being anything more than housemates. Still, it wasn't as hostile as Whit had thought it would be, and the fact that he didn't keep him from sitting down made Whit feel that he might even warm up to him.

The list of names slowly grew smaller. After a while, Professor Trimble called out for: 'Miller, Dakota'. She slowly walked up to the stool and placed the hat over her head. The Sorting Hat took a considerable amount of time thinking about Dakota, until finally, he made his choice.

'Hufflepuf', it said, somewhat strictly, and less enthusiastically than before.

Dakota threw the Sorting Hat off and with tears in her eyes, joined the Hufflepuff table. She was welcomed immediately, with three girls trying to comfort her. Whit remembered how much she had wanted to be in Ravenclaw. She'd just become the first non-Ravenclaw witch in her family in twenty generations.

Adam was sorted next, and after a brief moment, the Sorting Hat decided he would be sorted into Ravenclaw.

_All three of us in different houses. Perhaps Jake was right. Perhaps making friends before the sorting ceremony isn't a good idea. But I'm sure that I can still be their friend._

As the list of names grew shorter, each of the houses received a fair share of students. More than forty first-years had to be sorted, and each house received at least seven students. They were near the end of the list, with only three students left to be sorted. One of them was a pallid looking boy with dark hair and pale skin. He was rather tall and skinny, and his face was sunken, as though he hadn't been eating for months. His eyes were a dark blue that made the paleness of his skin stand out even further. He took a seat and the Sorting Hat hadn't even touched his ears, before he was sorted into Slytherin. The Slytherin table cheered again. Professor Trimble ushered them into silence and read out the next name.

'Wright, Elladora'

The blond girl stepped up, sitting down on the three-legged stool with as much grace and elegance as a swan sitting down on her eggs. She pulled her hair back dramatically, plucking a stray hair out of her eyes before putting on the Sorting Hat. It pondered over her for a while, making up his mind about where I would place her.

'GRYFFINDOR!'

The Gryffindor table exploded into cheers, everyone clapping their hands in celebration. Whit noticed that especially the Gryffindor boys were celebrating merrily to her arrival. Adam seemed crestfallen.

The Sorting Hat was replaced into its box after the final student was sorted into her house (Hufflepuff!). Professor Trimble closed the lid of the wooden box and then walked across the hall to the teachers' table. With all that had been happening around him, Whit hadn't given the teachers a lot of his interest.

On the far left was Hagrid, his enormous size accentuated by the fact that a tiny man was sitting next to him. The man was wearing a large pointed hat, whose tip was hanging down. Compared to Hagrid, he was tiny.

The third seat was taken by an old man, with wiry white hair that stood out to the sides of his head. He was bald on the top. The old man sat with his eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to the murmurs and talking around him. He had his hands folded before him on the table. His face was hard, with a hooked nose that stood off to the side a little.

The Whitecloak was sitting near the middle of the room. Another teacher was talking to him, but he did not seem to respond. He was gazing intently over the students, his eyes darting this way and that. The wizard that was trying to talk to him gave up and turned around, instead striking conversation with the witch at his other side. He was wearing a huge hat, with an enormous brim that hung loosely down at the sides. His face was young; he was perhaps in his mid-twenties.

One of the teachers in the middle of the teachers' table stood up. All sound in the hall died out before she even needed to raise her hand or call for silence. Her face was stern and Whit knew that she wasn't someone to cross.

'For those of you who sit at these tables for the first time and for those whom have returned to us after the summer, I, headmistress McGonagall, welcome you to Hogwarts.'

All eyes in the room were now directed at the Headmistress. She paused for a moment, taking in the entire school.

'I hope that Hogwarts will be your home,' She continued, 'and that each and every one of you will be able to spend this year maximizing your potentials. Hogwarts is an institution that you will help you do so by providing you with excellent conditions to fulfil your goals.'

Whit looked around himself for a quick moment as the Headmistress added another pause to her speech. Nearly every student's face was turned to the Headmistress. Most of the teachers were looking at her too.

Suddenly, Whit noticed a pairs of eyes on him. The old man with wiry hair was looking at him intently. He didn't avert his gaze though, but instead deepened it. Whit could feel that the man was measuring him up. His pale blue eyes pulled in Whit's gaze and Whit couldn't find a way to tear his eyes away from him. The Headmistress began speaking again, but Whit couldn't bring up the power to look at her.

'As some of you have noticed,' she said, while the old man's eyes continued its hypnotic stare, 'there are a few additions to our staff. The first addition is mister Beaufort.' The man with the enormous hat stood up awkwardly, waved his hand a little and sat down again. 'Mister Beaufort will be taking up a special position as Administrative Investigator and Re-evaluator of Hogwarts' Enchantments and Active Defences. He will be here to help us protect our school from any sort of danger.'

The old man's eyes were boring even deeper now. Whit could feel that he was being sized up. The old man was trying to judge him.

'Another addition to our staff is Marshal Hart. He will be here to guard Hogwarts too, but instead of focussing on the magical wards that keep intruders out, he will be making sure our internal defences are up to scratch.'

The Whitecloak made a simple nod to show who he was and then resumed his study of each student in the hall.

'The last addition in our staff is master Cane.'

At last, the old man broke his eye contact and turned his head slowly to the Headmistress. The corners of his mouth slowly curled up into a faint smile.

'Master Cane is here to train one of our students in a very specific branch of magic.'

This comment caused a murmur among the students. Everyone around Whit started whispering, discussing what sort of magic it would be. Whit did not partake. He knew what branch of magic the Headmistress was talking about, he even knew what student he would be teaching.

'Silence please!' the Headmistress said in a way that could make an iron bar come over soft. 'Hogwarts is pleased to accept, for the first time in over thirty years, a runemage.'

The great hall exploded in wild debate between students. Whit noticed several frowned faces.

'Aren't runemages supposed to be untrustworthy?' one of the Gryffindors asked loudly.

'Yeah! I thought runemages were supposed to be back-stabbers!'

The Headmistress waved her hand. Silence descended over the great hall. 'Against popular belief,' she continued in a slightly more stern tone, 'Runemages are neither untrustworthy nor betrayers. Those are personality-traits that can be found in every person, and have nothing to do with magic. Hogwarts is proud to have accepted this student, as much as it is proud to have accepted each and every one of you. Needless to say, it would reflect very badly on your house if you did not treat this student like you would any other…'

This seemed to be enough of an explanation to most of the students.

Headmistress McGonagall continued her speech. 'The Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students. I want to inform you that any student found outside his or her dorm after hours will be taken to his head of house immediately.'

She paused for another moment and then clapped her hands. Dishes and plates of food appeared immediately on each table.

'Dig in!'

The Slytherin table was completely laden with food. In front of Whit were silver plates filled with sausages, brass goblets that held apple-juice or tea and that refilled themselves, copper plates with marinated chicken wings. There was china with the Hogwarts crest on it, completely stowed with tarts, vegetables or potatoes. There were pots containing soups, some of which changed flavour every time you took a sip. Others changed colour on your spoon. Whit saw fresh apples; greener and bigger than any he had ever seen before. Everyone was filling their plates now, and Whit was about to grab a saucer of mushrooms when something silvery white passed through it. It had the face of a man.

'Hello there, baron.' A girl to the right of Whit said. She was older than him, with green eyes and dark eyebrows. 'How has life in the castle been during the vacation?'

'Ghaa, Evvelyn,' the silver man said in a hoarse whisper, 'Life's great when you're dead. I scared some mice to death only this week. Perhaps I'll move on to first-years soon.'

Whit suddenly realized that a ghost was in front of him, looking down with leering eyes. He had shackles around his arms and legs, and his clothes looked like they were bloodstained save for the fact that they were completely silver. He moved forward quickly, catching Whit by surprise as he launched straight through him. Whit felt shivers running down his spine when he did. It was like a cold shower had been turned on in front of him. When the baron had finally passed out of him at the other side, the strange feeling faded away immediately.

'Ghaa! I love doing that to first years.' the baron said. 'Welcome to Slytherin.'

Whit tried to strike up conversation with several of his fellow first-years, but it was to no avail. Left of him were Jack and Jake, both of them still refusing to even acknowledge his existence as they ignored him totally. On the other side of Whit was the pale boy with dark hair that was sorted last. He too ignored Whit, but then, he seemed to be ignoring everyone. His attention was completely focussed on the remains of his food.

So, the evening went along, Whit silently wondering about the Great Hall's ceiling, the ghosts that flew about the place and the different paintings on the walls. Their inhabitants were walking around in their frames, just like the people on the chocolate frog cards were able to do. They were also able to move into each other's pictures, which led to some interesting scenes. A memorable one involved a hunter trailing a rhino all around the great hall. After he'd tried to shoot it from behind a cluster of bald monks wearing aprons, the rhino fled, leaving behind a wake of destruction.

Whit also noticed that the old man who had been looking at him so much now had his eyes closed again. He had done so right after the Headmistress had finished her speech and dinner had begun. Whit had snuck a peek several times, and each time he had been in the same position; his eyes closed, his hands placed palm-up and his fingers intertwined.

After dinner, there was dessert. Big, shiny, silver cups engraved with the Hogwarts crest appeared in front of everyone, each holding an assortment of different flavours of ice. Whit's were nougat, mint and honey. He had eaten the nougat and honey flavoured ones first, leaving the mint untouched. _Who in their right mind eats mint ice?!_

'Ladies and gentlemen,' Headmistress McGonagall said after the ice had vanished from the tables. ' I want to thank you all for enjoying yourselves. Since today is a Friday, you'll have a whole weekend to enjoy before your first classes start. All students must now go to their houses, where you will find your luggage ready on your beds. Prefects, lead the way.

All the students in the hall stood up simultaneously, the sounds of benches scraping the flagstones causing a cacophony of screeches. Prefects, Whit heard Jake mumble to Jack, were students that had been chosen from the top of their year to keep order in their houses.

'Right you buggers, follow me now!' a squat, muscular boy said to all first year. He and a thin girl with sleek blond hair and freckles on her nose led them and the other Slytherins down a staircase to the basements. There, he made a sharp turn and walked down a number of long aisles lined with suits of armour. Half-way through one of them, he stopped. He made a ninety-degree turn and then said aloud: _Tomentua_. A hidden door immediately became visible from the bare wall and the prefect entered through it. Other Slytherins followed, among whom Whit. He opened his eyes wide a few seconds later, seeing the Slytherin common room for the first time in his life.

The common room was a low-ceilinged room with rough walls. From the ceiling hung round, green lamps, whose lights draped the common room with a dingy glow. There were tapestries hanging from each of the walls, most of them depicting great battles or powerful wizards. Several tables were scattered about the room, each of them surrounded by a sofa and some comfortable looking chairs. There was a big fireplace on one side of the room, where an enormous fire was roaring. Like most objects in the common room, the fireplace was decorated with skulls. They weren't real ones, but made of some dark stone. Each of them shone like it was neatly polished. Most of the Slytherins that had passed through the barrier had already taken a seat near the fireplace.

Suddenly, Whit felt something collide with him. It smacked into him, knocking him down to all fours.

'What is it with you and barriers?' Jake said as he scrambled up again. 'First at King's Cross and now this. Don't you have eyes, Whitehead?'

Several of the Slytherins that stood by chuckled at this. Whit got up quickly to apologise, but before he could, Jack had cut him off.

'You'd better be more careful, Snowman. You never know what sort of _accidents _could happen in a school like this.'

This seemed to get the attention of all the Slytherins standing around. Silence spread out throughout the common room as every student eagerly awaited a response. Whit tried to think of something to say when the sleek-haired blond girl that was a prefect suddenly stepped into the middle.

'You'd better worry I don't accidentally give you detention, first-year.'

There was a collective sigh of disappointment as all the students diverted their attention again. Whit caught a whisper between two students.

'She always steps in when something fun happens.'

Jack and Jake received a good talking-to before she let them go again. Afterwards, she turned to Whit. She put one of her hands in her pockets and dug out a few coloured beans. Whit accepted them eagerly.

'Try sitting somewhere off from the rest,' she advised, 'these sorts of quarrels are common in Slytherin house. I heard it was a lot worse a few years ago. Back then; a wizard's blood status could make him a social outcast here. Those days are over though.'

The common room was filled with Slytherins by then. There were several groups of students. Some groups were quite large, others consisting of only three or two students. There were also a lot of individual students seated between the different groups. Some were reading spell books, others were practicing with their wand. Whit sat down on one of the seats a little off from the rest of the Slytherins. He took out his copy of "The Standard Book of Spells" and began reading.


End file.
